The Potter Identity
by Sigil
Summary: A twentyfouryearold Harry loses his memory and must get it back before his enemies find him. I got this idea from the book The Bourne Identity.
1. 1

Okay, I thought of this after reading The Bourne Identity and watching the second Harry Potter movie, so it's kind of a take-off of the Bourne Identity. With obvious differences. It shouldn't turn into a parody - I'm just taking the basic idea of the Bourne Identity and using that in the HP universe. And if you're thinking of the movie The Bourne Identity, don't. It massacred the book. Took away the whole point. If you can, read the book. It's loads better. But don't get me started. Just read!  
  
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The Potter Identity  
  
By Sigil  
  
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He was cold.  
  
He was tired.  
  
And he was running.  
  
Always running. It seemed he had been running forever. Through the streets, by the shocked passer-bys who gaped for a second before Memory Spells hit them from behind, and down to the docks. Spells whizzed by his head, never hitting him. They were herding him. But where?  
  
The docks. Water. They didn't want him to be found. Turning, Harry Potter lifted his wand, determined to go down fighting. He could stop most of the spells they threw at him. Just as long as they didn't try the Killing Curse.  
  
They didn't. What they did was much more unexpected.  
  
They used guns.  
  
The first bullet buried itself in his chest, and another in his leg. Harry's wand slipped from nerveless fingers as he stumbled back along the dock. He almost managed to stop before wood gave way to water.  
  
Almost.  
  
One last bullet flew from the darkness and struck his head, and Harry lost the battle for balance.  
  
The water rushed up to meet him as sirens screamed in the distance.  
  
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Officer Riley Barton almost flew from his car to the edge of the dock. The shooters were long gone; Squad 2 was chasing them through downtown Boston. Of course, they had saved the worst job for him. He was stuck with the job of finding their victim.  
  
It wasn't hard.  
  
A young man - twenty-four at the oldest - floated face down in the water. Barton flipped him over and lugged him out of the river, not expecting him to be alive. Bullet holes riddled his body, and he was bleeding badly from a scalp wound. He felt for a pulse and sighed with relief.  
  
He was alive. But barely.  
  
The ambulance screamed up behind the cop, and medics streamed out to bear the man away.  
  
Frowning, Barton picked up a small piece of polished wood at the end of the dock where the man had been and jammed it into his pocket. Could be a clue. Or it could be nothing, but he could always throw it away.  
  
Whistling, Barton walked back to his car. This hadn't been a bad night.  
  
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Should I continue? Or was this bad enough that I should quit?  
  
Reviews, please! 


	2. 2

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The Potter Identity  
  
Ch 2  
  
By Sigil  
  
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Sirius Black slammed his fist down on the desk in front of him. "That's not good enough! People do not simply disappear!"  
  
The man behind the desk did not seemed perturbed at all by Sirius's outburst. "Mr. Black, we are quite confident that there is nothing wrong with Mr. Potter. It's only been a few days since we last heard from him."  
  
"A few days? He promised to meet me last night, and he didn't show up. Don't tell me he's just been held up, either. I know Harry better than that!"  
  
"Calm yourself, Mr. Black. I'm sure it's perfectly – "  
  
"Mr. Evans, show Mr. Black into my office."  
  
The man behind the desk turned toward the doorway from which the voice had come. "Sir?"  
  
"You heard me."  
  
Flustered, Evans just nodded and ushered Sirius into another room.  
  
"Shut the door, Mr. Evans. Activate the wards."  
  
Evans nodded and backed out.  
  
Sirius tensed. "Wards?"  
  
"One can never be too careful, Mr. Black." The high-backed chair behind the desk swiveled around slowly. Sirius had to suppress a snort. Somebody's been watching a few too many Muggle detective shows.  
  
The chair completed its turn to reveal a balding, middle-aged, nondescript man. He was the kind that melted into the crowd, the one you didn't notice.  
  
"How much do you know about what Mr. Potter does, Mr. Black?"  
  
Sirius frowned. "Well, he said he worked in Muggle Relations. Dealing with those Muggles that are allowed to know we exist, and all that."  
  
The man steepled his fingers. "And what if I told you that was a lie?"  
  
Sirius blinked.  
  
"What if I told you that Mr. Potter worked for me?"  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Can we quit with the hypothetical situations and get down to business? Where is my godson?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You don't know?"  
  
"That is correct. He hasn't reported in for the past few days. He was supposed to make a report every twenty-four hours."  
  
"Report of what?"  
  
The man sighed. "Mr. Potter has, for the past few weeks, been undercover in a dark wizard gang in America."  
  
"Right. And I'm the Queen. He told me he was meeting with the Muggle Relations squad over there, to help them clean up a mess."  
  
"That was his cover story. He was not allowed to tell anyone the true nature of his visit to America. Not even you."  
  
"I don't believe you." But events seemed to flash through his mind – Harry had never talked much about his work. He was constantly gone to some area of the world, always with some excuse of work he was doing.  
  
"Stop lying to yourself, Mr. Black." The man shuffled some papers on his desk. "And, incidentally, don't inform anyone of what I have just told you, or what I am about to tell you. This is strictly confidential."  
  
Sirius nodded numbly.  
  
"There are two possibilities. First, he may have been discovered, and either killed or captured. Second, he may have turned."  
  
The man held up a hand to stop Sirius' protests. "It has happened before. There is no denying that Harry Potter has been exposed to Dark Magic more than anyone who was never a Death Eater. That kind of exposure can make one more......accustomed......to using that power. Especially since he would be required to use it on occasion for his cover."  
  
"Harry would never – "  
  
"Personally, I don't believe that either. Perhaps he has simply been unable to contact us for entirely innocent reasons. Either way, we must be cautious." The man took a deep breath. "In one week, if he has not reported in, we will send a team after him. They will watch the gang. If he has been captured, they will free him. If he's dead, they will leave him. If he has turned......" He sighed. "They will kill him."  
  
"Now wait just a minute!"  
  
"I must ask you not to make it known that Harry is not still staying with you. Do no report that he is missing. If asked, use the same story he told you. Also, you have been hearing from him on a regular basis." The man's gaze hardened. "Nobody must know that he is missing."  
  
"You expect me to just sit around and wait to hear whether or not he's dead?"  
  
"That is exactly what I expect of you, Mr. Black! Unless you want him to be killed out of hand, I suggest you do just that." His voice softened. "You are not an Auror anymore, Mr. Black. You cannot just go rushing into action. Especially not in my trade."  
  
"And what, exactly, is your trade? What department is this?" There had been no signs on the door; there wasn't even a nameplate on the desk.  
  
"We are the department that does not exist. Do not try to find this room again. You won't be able to unless we want you to." The man waved a hand at the door. "Remember what I told you, Mr. Black. We will be in touch. And we will be watching your house, so do not even consider trying anything funny."  
  
Sirius had to bite his tongue to stop the retort that threatened to escape. Lupin! He'd get Lupin to help him! This man was a fool if he thought Sirius would just sit back and let his godson die.  
  
"And don't even think about trying to tell your pet werewolf. We will confine you if need be." The man smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Your value as a public relations assistant will only carry you so far."  
  
Sirius just glared and turned on his heel to storm out of the room. Nothing was going to stop him from going after his godson!  
  
After he'd left, the man called his assistant in. "Evans, make sure they keep a close eye on him. Let a few men be seen, just enough that he knows we're there. Don't try to stop him from doing anything he feels the need to do, and have the men go deep undercover once he's on his way." He smiled. "After all, if Potter has turned, who better to bring him in than Sirius Black?"  
  
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TBC  
  
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(A/N) Well, I wasn't really planning on continuing this until I finished my series, but I just saw HP: POA in theaters, so I had to write something with Sirius in it. Then I remembered this story, and the ideas I had for it, so I decided to write more. No guarantees on when the next part will come out; I'm just trying to update all my stories right now. 


	3. Chapter 3

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The Potter Identity

Ch 3

By Sigil

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Pain.

It was everywhere. It came like a tide, then left him stranded, wave after wave after wave.

_Water pushing him against wood, in his lungs, tearing at his chest, and the pain oh the pain………._

Cold and white, swimming in and out of view, voices around him, screaming.

Darkness.

_Red eyes in the night, laughter that tore him ragged, betrayal, and death, so much death………._."Cedric. Cho. Moody. Hermione………."

"What?"

"He's delirious. Help me with this."

_Dead. They were dead. No going back. Savior, but what was it worth? Fragments of a dream, all a dream.…………_

_He'll never forgive me..._

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_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

When he opened his eyes, it was white. The dream replayed itself; white walls, red blood. Laughter. Death. And somewhere, a woman screaming.

Panic gripped him, and he flailed angrily, ripping tubes from his arms. _They're coming….they'll get me…._Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, a tiny voice whispered, "_Who?"_

Shying away from that thought, he staggered to his feet. _Have to get out, can't stay here, can't let them find me…._

The door burst open, and a group of orderlies descended on him, throwing him to the floor and holding him down while another pulled out a needle.

"No!" His voice was ragged; his throat felt as though he'd been screaming for hours. The needle plunged toward his skin…

And broke.

Stunned, the many grips on him slackened, and he took advantage of their surprise to push them off with inhuman strength. Something within him screamed that this wasn't right, this wasn't natural, but a dark corner of his mind whispered that this power was his by right, his for the taking….

Blood was soaking his bandages, and he could feel himself getting weaker. _No, won't go back, can't go back…_. Furious, his vision almost obscured by the red haze in his eyes, he sprinted for the window, dropping his shoulder at the last minute. It shattered easily, to his great surprise, and he braced himself for a long fall and the inevitable impact….

He hit the ground. While it did hurt, the pain was not nearly as bad as it should have been. Opening his eyes, he realized that, rather than falling many stories to a painful end, he had simply jumped out of the first-floor window.

For a long heartbeat, he stared at the window he had broken through. Wire mesh crisscrossed the broken frame, yet he had smashed it as easily as breathing. Once again, a wrongness pulsed within him, but he pushed it back and struggled to his feet. There would be time to think later, when he had reached….Where? A vision of a black-haired man with sunken eyes swayed dizzily before his eyes, and he took a step, reaching for the mirage. There was his bedraggled appearance.

_Must reach the black man…._

Galvanized into action by the shouts from the broken window, the man without a name stumbled into the stark daylight, seeking shadows in which he could hide.

It is a measure of his luck (if, indeed, that is what it might be called…) that his pursuers could find no trace of him.

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TBC

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Sorry about the wait. HBP brought me back into the HP world for a while, and I remembered that I had this waiting for me.


End file.
